


W is for World Meeting

by Zeplerfer



Series: Alphabet Smut [15]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Dubious Consent, Hotel Room Sex, M/M, you'll see why - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 16:14:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11650164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeplerfer/pseuds/Zeplerfer
Summary: When the hotel booked America and England in adjoining suites, America expected a rant from England about watching loud movies at midnight. What he didn’t anticipate was the way their entire relationship would change, at least, at night...





	W is for World Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not using archive warnings on this one because "rape/non-con" feels too strong, but I do want to warn you that the story has dubious consent. I apologize in advance for my strange plot bunnies.

_Mid July, Hamburg_

America rolled his suitcase across the smooth floor of the hotel lobby with a spring in his step and smile on his face. He was still amped from his birthday celebration. Great fireworks and fantastic food made for a nearly perfect party. And yet… there had been something missing. He wasn’t quite sure what, but he was sure he would figure it out in time for his next birthday.

Maybe he needed more flavors of potato chips? Canada was always going on about how much better ketchup-flavored chips tasted. Stodgy old England liked salt and vinegar ones best, but he rarely attended and never ate anything when he did, so America decided he could cross that flavor off the list.

Speak of the devil… as he reached the end of the lobby, a certain salt-and-vinegar loving nation stepped out of the nearest elevator. “Hey, England!” America waved and shouted to catch his attention.

England glanced his direction. He looked ill, with paler-than-normal skin and dark bags under his eyes. “Oh, great,” he muttered under his breath.

“You okay?” America asked, a twinge of worry in his voice. England looked like he needed a pick-me-up. “Wanna grab a burger?”

“Yes, and no,” England replied.

“Awesome!” America gestured toward his rolling suitcase. “I’m gonna dump this in my room and be right back.”

England rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m fine. No, I don’t want to join you for dinner. I’m going to the front desk to change my hotel room.”

America tilted his head. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It has a door connecting it with the adjoining suite. Given my luck, I’ll be next to some inconsiderate person who watches the telly at full volume.”

“Maybe an old man like you should just wear earplugs if you’re going to bed at 8pm.”

England favored him with a sour look. “I have something else to help me sleep, but it would help even more if some people stopped being so rude,” he retorted before striding away with determination.

America frowned. Something had clearly crawled up England’s ass and died, but for once he was pretty sure it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t even seen England for the past month! Irritated at the undeserved scolding, he strode into the elevator and glared at the closing doors. So much for his vague dinner plans.

Taking a right as he exited the hotel elevator, America walked a few doors down to room 704. He swiped his card and opened the door. The hotel suite met the usual standards for a world meeting. It was big and clean, with a king-sized bed, a giant flat screen television, and a little work desk (not that America would need it). The seating area near the bathroom had a door that connected it to the adjoining hotel room—a way to convert the room into a two-bedroom suite if needed. He didn’t complain as much as England did, so America just made sure the door was locked and then ignored it. He set his suitcase next to the bed, plopped onto his bed, and—feeling too lazy to find the nearest McDonald’s—ordered room service.

By the time his food arrived, America was a half hour into the latest summer blockbuster. He paused the film and eagerly opened the door. It took two carts to wheel in all his food. America tipped generously, then pigged out on the bed as he continued to watch movies at high volume. Given the ideas America normally proposed at world meetings, he had discovered that watching blockbusters the night before a world meeting was a _great_ way to prepare. It was way more fun than the boring alternatives, which involved lots of charts and acronyms he didn’t understand.

Enjoying a well-deserved food coma, America watched television late into the night. He fell asleep with the silly laugh track of a cheesy remake playing in the background.

He woke shortly after midnight to the sound of static. America blinked and yawned. The television looked like creepy electronic snow, casting a blue glow that dimly illuminated the room. Over the sound of the television, it took him a few moments to realize there was another sound coming from the hallway. It sounded like… knocking?

America turned off the television and grumbled as he got out of bed. He made his way through the dark room to the hallway door. But when he looked through the peephole, there was no one outside. A brief chill went down his spine.

The scared nation bit his lip to smother a whimper. He yelped and jumped into the air as the knocking resumed. The sound was coming from behind him!

America whirled around and hit the room lights with superhuman speed. The light switch turned on a lamp by the bed and another by his couch, giving the room a soft, golden glow. He found himself suddenly wishing for fluorescent lights to fill the room with piercing bright light.

As the knocking continued, America trembled and walked closer to the _other_ door. The one that led into the adjoining room. He reached for the door knob and hesitated. If this was a horror film someone would be yelling at him to leave the door closed.

“Who’s there?” America demanded, his voice strained.

No one answered, but the knocking was _definitely_ coming from the other side of the door. America took a deep breath and reminded himself that it was probably just someone who wanted him to turn off his television. Apparently _some_ countries at the world meeting preferred to go to bed before midnight.

“Okay, okay. I turned it off,” America griped. He went back to his bed, but left the lights turned on.

The knocking continued.

“Look, you’re the one being noisy now,” America pointed out. “I can’t go to sleep if you keep it up.” He’d never fall asleep with that incessant rapping, rapping on his bedroom door. Not to mention his heart was pounding too loudly in his ears.

The noise stopped. America held his breath for five seconds and then breathed a slow sigh of relief. He closed his eyes and started counting sheep.

The knocking started again.

“Argh!” America jumped up from his bed and strode over to the door, fear warring with annoyance. Whoever it was, they were probably trying to teach him a lesson about how inconsiderate it was to listen to a loud television late at night. Or maybe they were trying to scare him. Either way, a hero wouldn’t let himself be intimidated! Knowing that he would never be able to get to sleep until he got whoever it was to stop knocking, America gathered every ounce of courage and unlocked his side. Trembling with fear, he swung the door open as fast as possible.

On the other side was England, his hand still in mid-air because America had yanked the door away before he finished his knock. The other nation wore only a white nightshirt that fell down to his thighs. America’s eyes lingered until he remembered that he was supposed to be proving to the world that he wasn’t scared by a little late-night knocking.

“Guess you weren’t able to get that room change after all,” he said with a half-hearted grin, eager to pretend that he hadn’t been quivering with fear just a few moments earlier.

Instead of responding, England stared at him blankly. He still had dark bags under his eyes and his normally bright eyes were dull. America felt a tinge of guilt. He wasn’t looking forward to listening to England rant about ‘inconsiderate gits making a late-night racket,’ but he knew he deserved it. Yet the rant never arrived. Instead, England took two steps into the room, closing the distance between them.

“You okay?” America asked, suddenly worried that this was the part of the horror film where he discovered his friend had already been infected by the virus / zombies / mind-stealing aliens. “You look kinda… pale.”

England stared at him blankly. “I’ve found a cure. It’s time to go to bed.”

“Uh… what?” Finding the other nation’s actions both creepy and attractive, America took a hesitant step back. “Look, if you’re trying to freak me out to punish me for the loud volume, it’s not working,” he insisted even as his voice trembled.

Before America could say another word, England closed the distance between them. He tilted his head upward and planted a kiss on America’s lips.

America’s eyes widened in shock. His vision filled with England’s pale skin and a light dusting of freckles he had never noticed before, probably because England’s cheek had never been an inch away from his eyeball. Then England slipped his tongue between America’s lips. America’s mind wasn’t sure how to process the passionate kiss, but his body knew exactly what to do. He closed his eyes and kissed back. It was sensual, intense, and everything he had ever hoped for (not that he had ever dared to hope).

When the glorious kiss finally ended, England gave him a soft, dreamy smile that matched America’s fondest memories. Feelings that had been locked away for decades surged to the surface.

America sucked in a breath and smiled back. “I’ve always wanted… you don’t know how much…” he trailed off, too caught up in emotions to have any hope of trying to explain.

England seemed to understand. He pressed in closer for another kiss. America had so many questions he wanted to ask, but more hungry kisses silenced him. England was passionate and fierce, and America kissed back with equal fervor, deepening each kiss as they embraced in the middle of the bedroom. This felt like a dream come true. They stumbled backward, and America found himself pushed up against the bed.

“Sure you don’t want to get dinner first?” he asked, still wondering how their relationship had gone from zero to sexy in less than a minute.

“I’d rather eat you,” England replied. His tone was flat, but America had long ago learned to associate England with deadpan humor. He grinned and nodded.

As he tugged his pants and underwear down to his knees, America vaguely wondered what had prompted England to kiss him so suddenly. Was it the thought of America so close that had finally pushed him to act on his feelings? Unspoken questions turned to breathless gasps as England wrapped his lips around America’s cock and started doing something amazing with his tongue.

England’s licks and kisses electrified America’s sensitive skin and sent a warm coil of pleasure to the base of his spine. None of his fantasies had ever done justice to England’s clever, greedy mouth.

“I’m gonna—” America warned as his load threatened to spill into England’s wide-open mouth. The Englishman just licked his lips and smirked. He crawled on top of America, pushing him back onto the crisp, white sheets.

America reached for the bedside table and realized he had a problem.

“Uh… I don’t got condoms or lube,” he admitted sheepishly. The condoms they could do without, but lube was essential. He wasn’t going to watch England limp through the first day of a world conference… especially because it would likely mean that England would refuse to have sex with him again. At least _one_ of them had to be sensible, and for some bizarre reason, that person was him. Although he wanted to stretch England to the limits and plunge his cock into England’s tight warmth, he heroically resisted. Instead, he lifted England’s nightshirt up to his slim hips. The older nation’s rather impressive cock swung in the open air and America bit his lip in appreciation. “England… I didn’t realize your ben was so _big_.”

Seemingly oblivious to America’s terrible joke, England moaned loudly as he humped the larger nation’s thighs like a needy whore. The friction against his hard cock threatened to send America over the edge.

“Oh god, yes!” America gasped as he came on his own stomach. Wanting to make England come so hard he saw stars and stripes, America took England’s cock in his hand and pumped it again and again, faster and faster until England’s mouth gaped open in a powerful orgasm. England arched his head back and moaned at the ceiling, then flopped onto America’s stomach and lay still for a few moments as they both caught their breaths.

America smiled softly and carded his fingers through England’s damp, messy hair. He wondered what it would feel like to hold the other nation in his arms all night long.

He never got the chance to find out. As soon as his breathing returned to normal, England rolled off the bed, walked out to the connecting door, and left America’s hotel room as silently as he had come in.

Despite his intense pleasure, America felt hurt.

* * *

The next morning, America found it hard to focus on preparing for the meeting as he took his shower and dressed. Oh well. If he was a little scatter-brained during the meeting, it wasn’t like anyone would notice the difference.

After such an earth-shattering night, the meeting felt shockingly normal. Germany glared at America when he arrived a few minutes late, and England pointedly ignored him as he took the seat marked ‘United States,’ right next to the ‘United Kingdom.’

Although he tried to catch England’s attention with a whispered ‘Good morning’ and a wink, the other nation hushed him. Okay. Apparently England wanted to keep their new relationship on the down low. That was fine with America, so long as England kept up the very enjoyable nighttime activities.

Out of the corner of his eye, America watched England thoughtlessly place a pen between his lips. It had probably been a nervous tic for centuries and American had never noticed, but now he couldn’t help but think of how sexy it was. He managed to turn his lusty sigh of appreciation into a cough and gave England an innocent grin when the other nation stared at him.

The rest of the morning session sped by while America fantasized about the sexy nation sitting next to him. He wondered if England still owned a pirate hat. Oh god, he hoped so. America sketched a sexy pirate with big eyes on a pad of paper provided by the hotel and smiled dreamily to himself.  

“Please be ready for the afternoon session promptly at one o’clock,” Germany intoned, drawing America’s wandering attention back to the front of the room. “We will continue our discussion of the Muntab question.” Germany seemed pleased by the progress of the morning session, most likely because America was too distracted by his own swirling thoughts to interrupt the meeting like usual.

America pivoted in his seat and smiled at England. “Hey, wanna grab lunch?”

“I would prefer something a little higher class than McDonald’s,” England replied dismissively as he packed away his reams of notes.

“You mean... like Olive Garden?” America wrinkled his brow in confusion.

England grabbed his briefcase and walked out of the conference room with America fast on his heels. But England was the nation that had invented James Bond for a reason. As they passed through the busy lobby, America promptly lost the crafty Brit.

Disappointed, he consoled himself with a towering pile of big macs. Even though they eased his hunger, the burgers didn’t taste as delicious as usual. America blamed it on foreigners’ inability to cook his national cuisine properly.

* * *

Given England’s lunchtime brush-off, America wasn’t sure whether to expect a repeat performance. He bought some lube and condoms from a nearby pharmacy anyway. He was a Boy Scout at heart and he always lived by their motto… Be Prepared. For gay sex, he added to himself. When the sound of knocking came from their shared door close to midnight, America grinned and quickly shut off the television.

“Sweet!” he shouted, jumping out of the bed and nearly tripping over his feet in his rush to unlock the doorway. He smiled at England, who blinked at him sleepily. “Ready for another round, old man?”

England skipped the sweet talk and launched directly into foreplay, his lips pressed against America’s as their bodies melded together. Although England still looked tired, he seemed determined to prove that even an ancient country could give a whippersnapper like America a good time.

America was painfully aroused as England once again stumbled with him toward the bed. They almost made it. They landed on their sides with legs dangling off the side of the bed. England’s nightshirt had hiked up around his hips. He rolled face-first into the sheets, leaving his pert buttocks exposed and ready. While England moaned and writhed against the bed, America found himself in charge of the condom and lube. He planted his feet on either side of England’s long, sexy legs and slathered his fingers with lube.

One slick finger at a time, he slowly stretched England as the other nation lay sweating and panting on the crisp white sheets. The other nation gasped in bliss when America found his prostate.

“Guess that’s the spot, huh?” America asked smugly.

With England ready to go, he covered his cock with a condom and even more lube. Grabbing England gently by the hips, America leaned forward and pressed the tip of his cock into the cleft of England’s butt cheeks. Inch by inch, he gradually pushed in deeper, his pleasure intensifying as tight warmth engulfed his cock. Beneath him, England moaned happily.

Finding the prostate again, America began thrusting. Each thrust made his heart pound harder. He slowed the pace and enjoyed every delicious second of firm friction. “God, yes,” he moaned to himself, making enough noise for both of them.

America continued thrusting and panting heavily, a light sheen of sweat upon his brow. He basked in a tidal wave of pleasure as England orgasmed beneath him. America came a moment later and flopped down next to England.  

“That was _amazing_ ,” America gasped between breaths. He tugged off the condom and tossed it into the waste bucket at the side of the bed. He crawled into bed and pulled England closer until his entire body was on the bed. England seemed to accept the man-handling in stride, his eyes still half-lidded as he stretched out on the bed. He looked like a big, lazy cat. America wasn’t sure exactly what sort. Perhaps a lion, given his national symbol, or maybe a cougar given their difference in age.

America gave England a kiss goodnight and then fell asleep pondering if it was possible to fall in love with someone based on amazing sex, or if he had already been in love and not realized. But once again, America felt understandably deflated when England’s side of the bed was deserted in the morning.

* * *

As he slipped into his seat just in time to begin the final day of the conference, America thought that he might have pushed England a little too far the previous night. England certainly hadn’t complained at the time, but he looked like a zombie in the meeting. He drank cup after cup of tea, and the bags under his eyes had grown more pronounced. He kept shifting in his seat, like he couldn’t find a comfortable position.

“You’re not still worn out from last night, are you?” America whispered while Germany brought the meeting to order.

“Hmm?” England blinked. He yawned as he turned to face America. “What did you say?”

“Guess we’ll need to take things slow today,” America replied with a laugh.

“Hmmph. That shouldn’t be a problem. You’re slow every day,” England retorted, his exhaustion not enough to stop the usual flow of insults.

America took the insult in good-natured stride. It was amazing how much two nights of awesome sex could improve one’s mood, even if it sapped their energy. Seeing that they both could use an infusion of caffeine, he grabbed England’s empty mug and returned with tea for England and a cup of coffee for himself.

“What was that for?” England asked, his brows wrinkled in confusion.

America shrugged. “You looked like you wanted it,” he said. Judging by the questioning looks England continued to send him for the rest of the morning session, England wasn’t satisfied by that explanation. He seemed even more confused when America invited him to lunch at a nice little deli near the hotel. But at least this time he finally agreed.

“Is everything all right, America?” England asked as he carefully unfolded the paper napkin onto his lap. America smiled at the display. Only England would bother with table manners while eating a ham sandwich.

“Oh, yeah, things are fantastic,” America cheerfully agreed. It was hard to be upset when he was having regular sex with the world’s greatest erotic ambassador. Well, had sex twice. He was hoping to make it regular.

“It’s just that you’ve been more...” England clearly struggled for words, an oddity given his normally expansive vocabulary. “Well, you’ve been acting strange.”

“How so?” America asked as he chewed his reuben.

“Don’t talk with your mouth open,” England criticized automatically. “Strange like bringing me a cup of tea. You _hate_ tea.”

America shrugged. “I was getting a cup of coffee anyway and it’s not like I’m gonna drink it. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

England opened and closed his mouth. “It’s nothing,” he said almost to himself. “I guess it’s nothing.” He gave America a thoughtful look and they finished the rest of their sandwiches in awkward silence. America blamed the lack of conversation on the fact that neither of them had gotten much sleep the night before.

Despite many cups of tea, the lack of sleep caught up with England in the afternoon. America saw a motion out of the corner of his eye and smiled when he realized that England was nodding off right in the middle of the afternoon session. The poor nation was clearly _trying_ to stay awake, blinking his eyes and trying to focus on the speaker at the lectern, but his head drooped forward more and more each time, before he finally drifted into slumber. With his head bowed forward and his arms on the desk, he still looked like he was taking notes.

America spent the entire afternoon hiding his smiles as he surreptitiously watched the rise and fall of England’s chest. Before he knew it, Germany had announced the end of the meeting and invited them all to drinks. _That_ finally caught England’s attention.

“Oh, thank god, alcohol,” England said fervently as he packed away his notes. Or more accurately, he packed the blank pages that would have been his notes had he been awake during the meeting.

America slipped an arm around England’s shoulders and pulled him into the hallway that led _away_ from the hotel bar and back to the elevator to their rooms. “Whoa, I think alcohol right now would be a really bad idea. You should hit the sack.”

“What are you doing?” England protested loudly and vehemently. He threw off America’s arm and glared at the other nation.

“Hey.” America lifted his hands in a placating gesture before he was attacked by an angry pirate. And not in the sexy way. “Dude. You fell asleep at the meeting and you haven’t eaten anything. Drinking right now is a recipe for vomit and disaster.” England opened his mouth, ready to object, but America placed a finger on his lips, earning a look of affronted shock. “And you know who they call to come pry you off the floor? Me. It’s always me. So trust me when I say that drinking right now is a bad idea.”

“What do you care?” England demanded, narrowing his eyes.

“I care! Come on, England. This isn’t just a physical thing, you know.”

England sighed, deflating as the fight went out of him. “No, you’re right,” he said, clearly pained by the admission. “I’m surprised you of all people noticed, but it’s not just physical. I always feel wretched this time of year, and I thought I had a solution. I suppose it didn’t work.” The island nation rubbed his temples as they walked together to the elevator.

America felt a stab of dismay. Was sex just a distraction for England? Was that why the other nation didn’t want anything to do with him outside of the bedroom? Swallowing his disappointment, he followed England into the elevator. Even though England told him that he didn’t need any help, America insisted on making sure he actually went to his hotel room. “I don’t want you sneaking down to the bar after I leave,” America explained.

He ordered room service for both of them and ate dinner with England as the other nation continued to give him befuddled looks.

“Shouldn’t you be down in the bar?” England asked in annoyance

“Eh.” America shrugged. The bar didn’t sound half as fun if there was no chance of a drunk Englishman changing into his sexy waiter outfit. Instead he settled down to watch an action flick while England kept up a constant stream of snarky commentary. Add in some buttery popcorn and it would have been the perfect date night.

A little after nine, England changed into his nightshirt in the bathroom, which was a little weird because they had already seen each other mostly naked during sex. But England was England, so he would always have his quirks. America watched as England downed two white pills with what looked like a shot of rum.

“Are you happy now?” England asked with a glare. “I won’t be going anywhere for the night, so you can kindly leave.”

“I’m never happy when you’re upset,” America admitted, surprising them both with his sincerity. On his way out of the room, he walked up to England and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Sleep tight.”

England gaped in shock as America closed the door between their rooms.

* * *

Much later that night, America awoke to the sound of knocking. He rolled out of bed and, as was now their usual pattern, opened the door to discover a horny England on the other side. “Sure you’re up to this tonight?” he asked, before surrendering to the other nation’s attack of kisses. Anyone who kissed that passionately knew what he was doing. And also _who_ he was doing.

They stumbled toward the bed, before America eyed a better solution. “I wanna fuck you on the desk,” he boldly declared. England certainly didn’t object as he pushed the swivel chair aside. They pressed against the edge of the desk. America grabbed England by the hips and lifted him up onto the table, scattering the papers. England sat waiting impatiently as America raced over to the nightstand and back as quickly as he could with a condom and lube.

England leaned back onto the desk and wrapped his legs around America’s hips while America slicked his fingers. In the narrow gap between them, he managed to slip the first one into England. It went in easily and America smirked. “You’re still loose from last night you needy little whore.”

It only took a few moments to stretch England and make him moan in wanton pleasure. America slipped on a condom and coated it with a generous dollop of lube.

“Unnf,” he groaned happily and firmly gripped England’s hips. Timing his thrusts, America rocked forward as England closed his eyes and moaned. Pure bliss filled America’s veins and sent a powerful jolt down his veins with his final thrust. He flopped back into the swivel chair and slowly caught his breath. America smiled in appreciation at the wonderful view of England’s legs dangling off the edge of the table right in front of them. England’s cock was limp and there was a sticky stain on his nightshirt.

When he was capable of coherent thought again, America stood up and helped England off the desk. They stumbled to the bed and curled up beneath the sheets. “You don’t need to go back to your room,” America murmured as he spooned England from behind. Maybe if he was lucky they could have a morning round before the noon check-out.

America buried his nose in England’s soft hair and smiled as he heard the other nation start to snore.

* * *

America woke up to find himself being pushed out of his own bed by an irate Englishman. He flailed as he rolled over the side, taking most of the sheets with him. He landed on the floor with a painful thump.

“What are you doing in my bed?” England shouted in indignation.

America, never at his best in the morning, blinked in confusion from his position sprawled out on the floor. “Wuh...? It’s _my_ bed.”

Slowly sitting upright, England looked around the messy hotel room and paled. “That’s not… but it’s…? How did I get here?”

“You knocked on the door, the way you always do.” America crawled to his feet and let the sheets fall to the floor.

England’s gaze trailed down his naked body and the other nation’s face went from pale white to beet red. “Oh god, we had sex.”

“Yeah. Just like the past few nights.”

“We’ve had _sex_ for the _past three nights_?” England demanded with an edge of panic in his voice. “What were you thinking?”

America shrugged. If the stories France told were true, England had a long history of casual flings. “I dunno. Mostly, ‘wow, he’s sexy’ and sometimes ‘fuck yeah,’ and then ‘oh baby, don’t stop!’ Why? What were _you_ thinking?”

England gaped. “I didn’t… I mean, those were just dreams! I was asleep!”

It was America’s turn to stare at England in shock. “ _Dreams_?! You were walking around and kissing me and humping my thighs! I shoved my cock up your ass!”

“Well, you weren’t very good at it if you couldn’t even wake me up.”

“You were enjoying it last night!” America shouted back.

“That’s because it was a dream!”

America paused. “…about me. About having sex with me.” He paused as another clue clicked into place. Something that might explain England’s odd behavior and lack of memories. “You were taking sleeping pills last night, weren’t you?”

“That’s none of your business.” England grabbed one of the sheets. He wrapped it around his waist with an air of grave dignity and stood up.

“I saw this on _House_ once. People can do weird shit on sleeping pills.”

“Apparently I just do idiots,” England muttered as he turned to leave.

America’s heart clenched in pain. The glorious sex had meant nothing, he was just the closest nation to England’s hotel room. A second later, he felt a stab of horrifying guilt. It could have been _anyone_ next door. He’d taken advantage of England without knowing it. Clearly the other nation would never have agreed to have sex with him if he were in his right mind. “England…” America choked out, trailing off because he was terrible with apologies, especially if they involved England.

The other nation paused and glanced over his shoulder. When he saw America’s stricken look, some of the anger left his expression. “Look, let’s just forget about it,” he proposed. “I already have, so we’re halfway there.”

“Okay,” America agreed, nodding slowly.

“Right.” England reached for the door knob and paused again. “But… I should probably know what exactly it is I’m forgetting.”

“You knocked on the door. I let you in. You kissed me. And then, you know, we just did it. But the first night I didn’t have lube so it was just humping.”

England stared at him incredulously. “I knocked. I walked in. We kissed and had sex, just like that?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” America rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. England’s opinion of him was going to go even lower after this. He couldn’t even tell when someone was sleepwalking and sleepfucking! In hindsight, England’s blank gaze should have been more of a warning sign. That and the fact that England never would have agreed to have sex with him while completely conscious. To England he was just a stupid, annoying, _young_ idiot.

“Just like that?” England repeated.

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s everything I need to know,” England declared. He walked back into his own hotel room and closed the door behind him.

America sat down on his bed and sighed heavily. Those three nights of glorious pleasure were all he would ever get. England might be willing to forget, but he would never forgive. There would be a permanent frigidity in their relationship. It might have been okay before, but now he knew he wanted so much more! Before America could sink fully into the depths of despair, he heard a knock from England’s door.

“What is it?” he asked, worried that there was something else he had done wrong.

England stepped back into America’s hotel room. He dropped the bedsheet and was wearing nothing but his stained nightshirt. “I want to kiss you and then I want to have sex,” he declared.

America gaped. “You… do?” He sprang to his feet and hurried over to England’s side, eager to repair the rip in their relationship (and also get a little morning nookie on the side). He leaned in and they pressed their lips together in the most awkward kiss of America’s centuries-long existence. It was stiff and hesitant and he had no idea what he was supposed to do with his hands. Everything that had come easily the night before felt unnatural in the morning light.

England pulled back and raised his eyebrows. “I find it hard to believe you have any experience kissing me whatsoever.”

“Yeah, this was way less awkward last night,” America admitted. “You were relaxed and all over me and you just went for it.”

“I see.” England slowly relaxed his shoulders. “I suppose I wasn’t worried about what would happen next.”

“Next we could have sex in the shower,” America proposed.

“I meant after that.”

“Maybe a limo?”

England smirked. “Are you this horny all the time?”

“No. I just really like having sex with you.” America thought perhaps there might be more to it than that, but they’d already had one very heavy conversation that day. He wasn’t ready for another.

“I see.” England smiled softly. He leaned in and kissed America as passionately as he had the night before. But this time there was a hint of tenderness. America pulled him closer and eagerly kissed back. After three practice rounds, he was determined to show England the time of his life.

And then… well, they would just have to take it one day— _and night_ —at a time.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, sexsomnia is a real thing. The moral of this story is don’t mix sleeping pills and alcohol. Or… maybe you should when you're in a hotel room next to your crush? I dunno, maybe this story doesn’t have a moral. It just has smut. Delicious smut!


End file.
